


Something Doesn’t Quite Line Up

by TheManOfManyFandoms



Series: DreamSMP Angst and Comfort [7]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Confusion, Dissociation, Fear, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, If you’ve come for a happy ending you’ve come to the wrong place, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Mind Manipulation, Ranboo Angst (Video Blogging RPF), Villain Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), You Have Been Warned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-16 07:13:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29449854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheManOfManyFandoms/pseuds/TheManOfManyFandoms
Summary: Ranboo can’t remember where he is, or why he’s there.*title from The Distortionist by Ghost
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Karl Jacobs & Ranboo
Series: DreamSMP Angst and Comfort [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2052576
Comments: 28
Kudos: 103





	Something Doesn’t Quite Line Up

**Author's Note:**

> Before I say anything, I just want to say that I am so unbelievably proud of Ranboo and all of the incredible milestones he’s hit. I was there for most of the Feb. 20 stream and it’s definitely going to be one that I remember for a long time. <3<3 Anyway: on to the story!
> 
> TW: Derealization, panic attacks (P much if you can’t watch Ranboo’s lore streams than I’d suggest not reading this fic)
> 
> Stay safe, reader, my beloved, (Platonically ofc) and enjoy!

Ranboo wakes up in the middle of a frozen tundra. He blinks, looking down at the pickaxe in one hand. A pickaxe? Why should he need a pickaxe? He’s already built his house. He’s doubtful that _anybody_ he knows would want his help, building something.

He’s trudging through the snow. Waking up hadn’t stopped his feet from carrying him wherever he had been going. Where is he going? He vaguely recognizes this part of the tundra. He racks his brain, in an attempt to remember. It’s leading him into a grassland. A nether portal shimmers and pops in the distance.

He doesn’t want to go to the nether. Why is he still walking? Where are his feet taking him? He can’t stop. Does he want to? He looks around. He thinks that he should recognize where he is. It looks familiar.

Craters in the ground. A beach that speaks volumes of loneliness and isolation. Mournful waves crashing against the rocks on the shore. Algae creeping up the sides of weather-worn, wooden benches on the beach. A shoddily repaired nether portal is on the grass nearby.

He steps through the portal. The jolting sensation, in his stomach, when he walks through never gets familiar. Which path should he take? He doesn’t know. His feet might. He lets himself walk, on instinct. Ghasts moan hauntingly, in the distance. Piglins converse, in their own language, close by. Zombie Piglin’s groan and snort amongst themselves. Lava pops and sizzles threateningly below.

Ranboo finds himself at the main portal soon. Stepping inside and allowing himself to be yanked through, he arrives in the Greater DreamSMP. He walks the familiar path, in a daze. He steps over creeping, red tendrils and walks around old creeper holes that nobody has bothered filling.

Once, he runs into someone else, walking with their head down. They both jump back and stare at each other. Something in his foggy brain is telling him that he knows this man. Brown hair, purple and green sweatshirt, kind face. Ranboo knows him. The man stares at him, clutching a book of his own to his chest.

”Do I know you?” The man asks, after a moment of silence.

”I think so,” Ranboo rasps out, forcing his voice to work.

”Then... do you know who I am?” The man asks.

Ranboo shrugs, unable to make himself speak anymore. He settles on an apologetic look, instead.

”It- it’s fine,” the man says, “I just can’t find it anywhere in my book.”

Ranboo understands that. Memories of torn pages and a crudely drawn smiley face make his shoulders tense. “Well, see you around? Maybe,” the man shrugs. The two circle around each other, staring, as they start off, in opposite directions and then turn their backs on each other again.

The interruption has seemed to make Ranboo’s subconscious forget his original destination. He looks around, trying to find somewhere he can go. _Anywhere_ he can go. There’s a black and gold mass in the distance. He stumbles towards it. Something in the back of his mind tells him that he shouldn’t go there.

He takes a closer look and his mind screams at him to _Run! Hide! Danger! Danger! Danger! Get somewhere safe!_ He remembers roofs and walls collapsing in on themselves. He remembers being trapped under the rubble, screaming for help. He remembers a mask smiling down at him. He remembers whispered praise for help that he never wanted to provide.

He’s running now. Away from that hell site. Away from anything green and smiling. Away from: _I’m just you!_ Away. Away. Away. 

He’s only aware of his surroundings again, when he’s in a stifling black and purple box. Dolphins are chirping, somewhere nearby and it does nothing to lessen the panic bubbling in Ranboo’s chest. “Hello, Ranboo.”

Ranboo whirls around, “Wh-where are you?”

”I’m just you, Ranboo,” the voice sighs impatiently, though a flickering outline of a man appears in front of him. It stalks towards him. “You’re doing excellent work lately, Ranboo. Though, I’m curious about one thing.”

”What?” Ranboo grits out. _I’m not free I’m not free I’m not I’m not I’m not-_

“I thought you said that you didn’t want to take sides anymore,” the glitching, masked man drapes an arm over Ranboo’s shoulders, “What changed there?”

”What- what are you talking about? I’m not taking sides! I just have a house and- and a few... a few... people I talk to,” Ranboo protests stiffly.

”Oh, c’mon now,” The man leans forward, until the smiling mask is facing Ranboo directly, “Than why have you been helping Dream break out of prison?”

”I- _what_?” Ranboo breathes, “I-I’m not! I’m not helping him! I can’t be! Why would I help him? What would ever make me help him? Dr- _he_ is the reason why so many people are fucked up!”

”You tell me,” the Dream-like man says, shrugging, “Think, Ranboo.”

"I- I don't know," Ranboo says, in no more than a whisper, "I can't- I can't remember." He jumps, when his record player turns itself on. It's playing Chirp. 

"Remember, Ranboo, remember," Dream whispers into his ear.

"Why can't _you_ just tell me?/" Ranboo asks.

Dream moves to the other ear, "I'm not real. I can't pretend to understand your motivations, Ranboo."

"Well, if you're me and- and you're not real..." Ranboo starts slowly, chest tightening, with terror.

"Than _you_ might not be real either," Dream finishes for him, backing away slightly.

Ranboo steps back, until he hits the wall. _He's not real. He's not real. Nothing is real. Tubbo isn't real. Techno isn't real. Nobody is real. Except for one._

"Dream," Ranboo chokes out, "Dream's real. Dream's real and he probably knows everything I'm doing right now." He shivers, eyes darting around rapidly. Is he just a lab rat, in some sort of sick experiment?

The glitchy, flickering image of Dream sits down in front of him. "Why are you frowning?" He questions, "Smile, Ranboo, smile."

Ranboo shakes his head rapidly. How can he smile now? Now that he knows he's being watched? 

"I really think you should smile," Dream says, in a candid tone, with a twist of one hand.

A dead smile grows across Ranboo's face and the teen lets out a distinctly 'enderman' screech. "Dream controls everything, Ranboo," the man says matter-of-factl, "Especially you."

"No! No! He can't," Ranboo protests weakly. 

"Smile for the cameras," Dream whispers, leaning in close, and dissapears. "I'm just you," his disembodied voice whispers, "And you are just me."

"What is going _on_?" Ranboo moans, pulling at his own hair, "I don't even know where I _am_!"

"The memory book will know," Dream laughs, "I think you wrote down a reminder."

Against his better judgement, Ranboo frantically tugs out his memory book and flips to the most recent page. The most recent page, which only has one thing on it.

Ranboo lets out a visceral, enderman cry of pain, as he throws the book away from himself. He sees the sign, even when he shuts his eyes. It's a sign that's haunted him for months. 

It's a simple thing, really. 

Nothing more than a simple smile.

Nothing more than:

:)

**Author's Note:**

> The day of reckoning hath come. I’ve been threatening a Ranboo angst fic for weeks!
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed! Kudos/bookmarks/comments are always appreciated.
> 
> (Anyway, me? Listening to Fallen Down from the Undertale soundtrack to desensitize myself? Hahahahahhaha you must have gotten the wrong emotionally unstable, queer teenager. Hahaha yeah.....)
> 
> (:


End file.
